


A Diamond in the Rough

by Surrealx3



Series: Johnlock AUs [2]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aladdin (1992) Fusion, Bisexual John, Doctor John Watson, Gay Sherlock, Harry is Abu, John is Aladdin, John is bored, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Molly is Raja, Prince Sherlock, Royal Holmes, Sherlock is Princess Jazmin, Sherlock is bored, Sort of Modern with fantasy elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surrealx3/pseuds/Surrealx3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m like a caged bird in here. I could fly, father. I’m far more intelligent than any of the sniveling scholars you have tutor me. Just let me out there to prove myself.”</p><p>“Out there, Sherlock,” The king was careful to keep from yelling from frustration, “Out there is dangerous, especially for a smart boy like you.”</p><p>“Father.”</p><p>He rose his hand, feeling an angry flush come on, “This is the last we are to speak of this Sherlock. You have tested my patience to the very last string. You will give the next suitor to call a chance or else I will revoke all access to the green house.”<br/> </p><p>---------------<br/>The Aladdin AU that you can't blame me for doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Moriarty paced his chamber, his eye twitching erratically. His breaths were deep and heavy as his frustration grew rapidly.

“Years, Seb,” he recounted to his falcon, “I have been searching for years, bowing to that pathetic king. I need to find it but how Seb, how? Even the king’s ring does not open the blasted entrance.”

He spun around and stride purposely towards his chest. A scroll laid open across it, Latin covered every inch of the aging paper. His eyes fell upon the words he read over and over again. What was he not getting? He needed a diamond. Yes, “in ungue adamantino aspera. A diamond in the rough. A diamond,” his breath hitched, “But maybe not an actual diamond. No, Sebby, not an actual diamond. That would be too easy. We need a different type of diamond.”

He stood, suddenly completely composed and at ease. He straightened his ruby red tie and straightened his pressed suit, an ominous smile growing on his lips. “Come, Sebby, we have an errand to run and a diamond to find.”

His falcon lifted into the air silently and circled the room before settling on his master’s shoulder. The game was on.

 --------------------------------------------------------------

“Sherlock,” the king shouted, marching purposefully through their extensive green house. “Sherlock, come out this second or so help me,” he let the threat trail off as he son stepped into the clearing, accompanied by his much more docile Arabian wildcat, Molly.

His son had his nose pressed to the inside of a book as usual and only looked up long enough to droll, “Yes, father?”

“Don’t ‘yes, father,’ me,” the king scolded, “You scared off yet another one of your suitors again. This one didn’t even bother to tell me he was living. I had to learn from a servant that they hightailed it out of here before the dust on his clothes could settle.”

“Please, father,” Sherlock hardly hid the way he rolled his eyes, “this one was hardly noteworthy enough to be upset about. He was a puppet of his own father and was strictly straight. His only interest was the Holmes name.”

The king felt his anger melt out of him and became simply desperation. “Sherlock, we need to get you married before your twentieth birthday. It is Holmes tradition.”

“To have the second son married before they turn twenty,” Sherlock stated dryly, “It’s hardly makes any sense at all. Mycroft is to take the thrown once you step down and he is years away from marrying. Shouldn’t you be brow-beating him to take a husband?”

“For one thing, you know it is to assure the continuation of the line,” the king lectured, “And I won’t be here to take care of you forever, Sherlock. Mycroft will marry someday and take on a family of his own and where would that leave you? We love you to bits, son, truly we do, and we want to make sure that you have someone to keep you grounded when we can’t be there.”

Sherlock scoffed, “Mycroft is always there. He has eyes everywhere. I shall be glad for the day when he finally minds his own business. Not that I have much business at all beyond the palace.”

The king sighed, rearing to handle another rant.

“I’m like a caged bird in here. I could fly, father. I’m far more intelligent than any of the sniveling scholars you have tutor me. Just let me out there to prove myself.”

“Out there, Sherlock,” The king was careful to keep from yelling from frustration, “Out there is dangerous, especially for a smart boy like you.”

“Father.”

He rose his hand, feeling an angry flush come on, “This is the last we are to speak of this Sherlock. You have tested my patience to the very last string. You will give the next suitor to call a chance or else I will revoke all access to the green house.” The king was pained by the hurt expression Sherlock wore as he agreed but he promised himself that Sherlock would understand someday. Hopefully.

 --------------------------------------------------------

“This way, my dear,” Moriarty chirped.

The men followed him through a narrow archway. Sebastian flew over them, circling impatiently.

“Moriarty.” He almost sighed when he heard that oh-so young and naïve voice. Though he would admit readily that he adored little Sherlock and his genius, he hated it when his plans stalled.

He turned and gave the young man his sweetest smile, “Yes, Sherly?”

Sherlock scowled at him, “It is Prince Sherlock to you. What are you bringing into my castle?”

Yes, his castle as of right now. Even the boy’s brilliance couldn’t stop him from usurping it as soon as he obtained his diamond. “Well, dear prince, I have acquired myself a new mirror.”

The boy glanced at the sheet covered object and found the explanation satisfactory but he hissed lowly, “I don’t trust you.”

Smart. “And it breaks my heart, my prince.” He watched the disdainful prince leave before continuing on to his private chambers with his new mirror in tow. “Easy there,” he fussed as the men set the mirror down, “Don’t you know a valuable artifact when you see one?” He huffed. The men murmured apologies and practically ran out the room.

Sebastian landed on his shoulder and crowed.

“I know, Seb. It’s finally all coming together.” Moriarty smirked. “Would you like to do the honors?”

The falcon lifted off silently and pulled the sheet off with his talons.

“Thank you, Sebby. Now are you ready to see who exactly our ‘Diamond in the Rough’ is?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a gay prince meets a bisexual Doctor and a moody monkey.

John Watson was lived the best he could as a family doctor. It should have been a satisfying life. His kid patients loved him, their parents adored him and he was currently dating one of the nurses, Sarah Sawyer. When he walked down the street, everyone and their uncle stopped him to say hello. He really should have been happy.

However, as he walked down through the bustling market place, he couldn’t help being malcontent. His bloody limp could just sod off. His living space was glorified box and his shoulder was still hurting from last night’s rain. And to top it off, he was an ungrateful bastard that forgot to call his girlfriend and tell her that he made it home alright after their date.

There’s nothing quite like knowing how terrible of a person you are. Especially when everyone else thinks you’re a saint.

He scanned the crowd for something interesting. Jewelry, no. Fruit, no. Vegetables, of course not. A tall, mysterious bloke with silky, dark, curly hair and amazing piercing eyes, yes. Definitely yes.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the younger man as he walked up to a jewelry stall. All seemed to be going well as the man stared at the pieces of jewelry while the stall holder chatted up a young woman into buying. Then the man opened his mouth. John was almost amazed by how quickly the situation spiraled into chaos. The stall holder, a large, hulking man, grabbed the man by the wrist and was yelling furiously while the woman ran away. He was about ready to thrash the young man when John found himself between them.

“Woah, there, easy now,” he said soothingly, “Why don’t we all just cool down for a bit? Whatever he said couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

“Dr. Watson,” the stall holder recognized him immediately, “He said that all my jewelry are made of fake silver and gems. Words like that could ruin a man.”

“He didn’t mean it. He’s a compulsive liar. Actually, he’s one of my patients at the moment,” John lied quite spectacularly.

“Liar?” the man cried, offended, “I’ve never lied a day in my life.”

John gave a nod as if to say, ‘You see what I mean?’

The stall holder looked skeptical but considerably calmer, “Don’t you only treat physical illnesses?”

“I’m the only doctor his family trusts,” John explained.

“I see,” the stall holder nodded, completely convinced, “You are a good man, Dr. Watson.”

 John saluted him awkwardly while trying to usher the man away from the stall.

Once they were a while away, the man spoke. “It has come to my attention that you did all that to help me.”

John ignored how much he loved how the voice made him feel like he was being smothered in silk. “Yes, well, I couldn’t let your pretty face get a bruise.”

There was a loud silence. “Pretty?” the man asked, a hint of a blush showing on his dangerously sharp cheeks.

John resisted the urge to touch them but he suspected that his smile was a bit smitten. “Yes, very pretty.”

“Oh,” there was another silence. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” John smiled, “I’m John. Watson if you didn’t catch it back there.”

“Sherlock,” the man replied, “So an invalided army doctor that fought in the sand dunes opened up a family practice in an area that sorely needed one. From the interaction back there, I’d say you’re not only good at the healing but at the interpersonal part of the job as well. You also have a monkey. Usually choice of pet.”

John gaped at him, “How did you know all that?”

“You limped while walking along but totally forgot about it while coming to my aid so psychosomatic limp. The psychosomatic limp implies an injury gained during a traumatic event plus your military posture says war. You were called doctor several times so obviously, an army doctor. You also have hair along your back and shoulders, too high up to be a dog or cat and too long for a ferret.”

John broke out into a wide grin, shocking Sherlock into dumbfounded silence. “That is absolutely brilliant. Yes, I do have a monkey. Her name is Harry. They took down a smuggling ring that was disguised as a circus and she was among the animals. I couldn’t let them just put her down so I bought her.”

“How,” Sherlock looked for a moment like he was struggling between saying strange and ridiculous, “Kind of you.”

He didn’t fool John, who just grinned and shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, she makes an excellent assistant when she’s not raging about something.”

“Raging,” Sherlock echoed.

John nodded, “Raging. You’ll get it when we meet her. I mean if you want to. We’re sort of at my apartment now so you can if you like.”

Sherlock looked up at the two story structure they stopped in front of. The first floor was obviously the practice with glass windows into the waiting room. He found himself nodding, “Sure. I would love to.”

John went into his practice and unlocked a door near the back before leading Sherlock up a set of stairs. Sherlock followed along tentatively but eagerly gleaned everything he could from the area. At the top of the stairs was a sparsely furnished apartment. The walls were shamelessly bare and the same clinical white as the practice. A couple framed pictures sat on the foot table in front of the couch but before he could get a closer look, a monkey appeared in front of him out of nowhere, chattering excitedly in what seemed like anger.

“Ignore her,” John said, sitting on the couch and patted the spot next to him pointedly, “She’s just happy to see you.”

Judging from her body language she obviously was not. Sherlock commented as he sat, “You’re not very good at reading your own monkey.” She just followed Sherlock and started her chattering all over again making wide arm movements and looking very put out.

“Sure I am,” John grinned, “See, now she’s asking what a handsome young man like is doing in a rundown place like this?”

To Sherlock’s horror, he found himself blushing at the compliment. “I doubt she said handsome.”

“You’re right,” John admitted with a flirtatious grin, “She said gorgeous. And I’m pretty sure I heard a stunning somewhere in there too.”

Harry huffed, evidently getting that John was going to use whatever she said against her.

Sherlock cleared his throat, ignoring his clear as day blush, “Do you usually save people just to flirt with them?”

“Um, no, not usually,” John laughed but was embarrassed himself by his own shamelessness, “But you’re a bit different from the people I usually save.”

“Different how?” Sherlock asked intently.

“Well people usually give me a clue as to whether or not they’re interested,” John joked.

“Oh, uh,” Sherlock ducked his head shyly, “Perhaps, I may be a bit interested. You are more interesting than most people I meet and you’re fairly handsome and you’re a doctor so you must be intelligent. You would be a suitable husband.” He only thought about the implications of what he was saying as the words flowed out. He corrected himself hastily, “Not that I wish to marry you. My father is just trying to push me into marriage and I can’t help thinking about it with your… flirting.”

“He’s trying to force you to marry?” John asked, obvious concern in his voice. “Why? You’re still young.”

“Family tradition,” Sherlock sighed, “The second son has to get married before his twentieth birthday. But never mind that. I don’t even want to think about it.” He turned his attention to the wide window overlooking the street. It was covered by a thin navy blue curtain.

John followed his eyes and hopped to his feet. “We could use some light.” He walked over, his limp completely forgotten, and pulled the curtains open. The small apartment overlooked the street and faced the castle. The setting sun was illuminating the palace in shades of orange and violet.

Sherlock gravitated towards the window until his hand touched the cool glass.

“Great view, right?” John leaned on the window beside him, “It’s part of the reason why I bought this place. God, the palace looks great. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to live there.”

“Dull.” Sherlock commented, tearing his eyes away. He caught Harry’s curious gaze before the monkey turned away, pretending it was minding it’s own business.

John snorted, “Can’t be duller than it is here.”

“I imagine it is.”

“How would you know?” John challenged him light heartedly.

“I’m the prince,” Sherlock revealed in the most bored tone possible.

John immediately froze, “What?”

“I’m the prince. Really, John, must you make me repeat myself?”

“But isn’t there only Prince Mycroft and Prince William?”

“Yes, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I don’t know what my parents were thinking when they named me William,” Sherlock complained.

“Wow,” John was still reeling from the shock, “What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be in the palace?”

The young man sneered, “You sound like my father.”

“Please tell me he knows where you’re at.”

Sherlock scoffed, “Of course not. Mycroft might. He has eyes everywhere. You’d think he was already the king if you saw how many strings he pulls in the background.”

“I was flirting with a prince,” John groaned, “I’m going to be killed.”

“Nonsense,” Sherlock pouted slightly, “I’m an adult. If I didn’t approve of it then I’d have you killed myself. I don’t need my father or brother to do it for me.”

“Thank goodness,” John chuckled. There was really no used crying over spilt milk. “I’m still alive so I assume you approve.”

“Oh,” Sherlock cleared his throat and cursed his pale skin. His blush only seemed to be growing, “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

“Good,” John opened his mouth to say more when his phone went off. He suppressed an irritated sigh and answered, “Dr. John Watson.”

“John, it’s great to hear your voice,” Sarah said teasingly.

John paled, “Sarah, hey, sorry I forgot to call you. I was just so out of it.”

“It’s fine,” she chirped, “As long as you’re okay. So what are you up to?”

“Me? Up to? Nothing at all, just, uh, talking to a friend. Hanging out, with a friend,” He directed a glare at Harry, who was obviously laughing in her monkey way. “What about you?”

“I’m just thinking about you,” she said flirtatiously, making John cringe. He could feel Sherlock’s judgmental glare drilling a hole into his head.

“Oh, were you?” He said with a self-depreciating laugh, “I imagine you have more important things to think about. I’m not really worth your time.”

“John,” there was a hint of worry creeping into her voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much,” he glanced at Sherlock to see that, yes, his piercing eyes were narrowed in suspicion, “I just forgot I wasn’t single for a bit. Started flirting with someone. Not my proudest moment. It didn’t get anywhere past flirting though.”

“Did you want it to?” Her voice was icy. Which was to be expected.

John heaved a sigh, “I’ll consider myself dumped, if you like.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, John,” she hung up and probably deleted his number.

John sighed again and looked up at Harry. Neither of them were really heartbroken by the lost but just shrugged at each other in a kind of ‘what can you do?’ way.

When he finally looked at Sherlock, he saw that his expression was less suspicion and more surprise. “You broke up with your girlfriend for me.”

“Not for you,” John corrected, “Because I was being a jerk and she deserves better.”

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully and looked back out at the palace. “I should go. I have to make sure no one notices that I’m missing.” He hesitated briefly before asking, “Perhaps, I can visit you sometime?”

“Yes, of course,” John grinned, “Anytime. I’ll give you my cell number.”

“No need,” Sherlock hesitated briefly before laying a butterfly kiss on John’s cheek. He was gone before John could breathe again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes new friends and doesn't quite understand how.

The next morning, he was still floating on air. Sarah took the day off (he was now aware of why dating colleagues was a bad idea) so he didn’t have to face that conversation just yet. He went through a couple of check-ups and a patient with the flu before men came storming into the waiting room. These men were decked in armor and brandished the royal insignia. John was in the back room with a patient when he heard the commotion these soldiers caused and ran out to see what was going on.

“John Watson,” the leader of the group called, “You are now arrested for malpractice.”

“Malpractice,” John glared him down. Harry was right next to him, chattering indignantly. “I was a soldier of the King. I treated soldiers of the King. I was shot in battle while treating a soldier of the King. I want to see what proof you have for arresting me for malpractice right now.”

The leader of the soldiers was cowed but he stood his ground. “This is a direct order from Lord Moriarty. We are just following orders.”

“Moriarty?” The man was well-known as the King’s advisor. “Why on earth would he want for me to be arrested?”

The Head soldier shrugged, “If you could come willingly Dr. Watson, I’m sure your appeal for innocence will be heard considering your past dedication to the crown.”

John huffed and rolled his eyes, “Fine. But this better not be just some mixed up documents. I get enough of those while trying to file my taxes.”

“Yes sir,” he motion a soldier forward to put handcuffs on the doctor. John let himself be led out the door but first told his on-duty nurse to reschedule everyone. Harry climbed onto his shoulder, wrapping her tail around his neck and leaving the soldiers bewildered until the head soldier told them to go on with her. Then, he and Harry was loaded into a police vehicle and escorted to the palace itself. That’s when John realized that something more sinister than mistaken paperwork was taking place.

He didn’t struggle when he was led to the palace dungeons, an ancient structure that hadn’t been used in centuries, by a single soldier. While part of him wanted to go back to his proper place as a neighborhood doctor, an even large part was incredibly curious as to why he was here.

Their steps echoed through the empty stone dungeon, going further and further in pass ancient cells. Even Harry was oddly silent. Finally, there arrived at a heavy wooden door that probably weighed more than John and the soldier combined. The soldier lifted his hand and rapped on the door. John felt his breath hitch as the door creaked open. A man, at first glance small and assuming, greeted them with a wide smile. He had a falcon rested on his shoulders that took John in with beady, knowing eyes. Once he saw it was them, he threw the door open excitedly, letting it bounce off the stone wall.

“Dr. John Watson,” the man grinned, “It is so wonderful to finally meet you. As you probably know, I am James Moriarty, but please, call me Jim.” 

Everything about the situation was completely odd. John eyed the man warily, “Call me John.”

“John it is, Johnny boy. Will you come in? Wilkes, take those ridiculous things off him.”

The soldier, Wilkes, took off the handcuffs and turned to leave.

John was almost unsettled by the soldier leaving but he gathered himself and followed Moriarty into the room. It was lit by candlelight only, several candles were lined up against the wall, giving the room an eerie glow. He and Harry jumped as the door slammed shut against in and looked up in time to see the falcon return to Moriarty’s shoulder.

“Now you see, John,” Moriarty’s smile was ominous, “I need you to do me a tiny favor. It’s really not hard at all. As soon as you do it, you can go back to being a doctor and all that. It’s really quite simple.” 

Harry chattered nervously in a quite obvious, ‘I don’t like this.’

John muttered beneath his breath, “Me neither.”

A flash of confusion crossed Moriarty’s face, “Pardon?”

“No, sorry,” John cleared his throat, “Talking to Harry. What do you need me to do exactly?”

“Just touch,” Moriarty pointed to the far wall, “that wall, right where you see symbols. Pass your hand over them and then you’re done.”

It sounded easy enough. “Okay.” He took a few wary steps to the wall and glanced back at the man that had him arrested for this ‘tiny favor.’ He raised his hand and waved over the Latin symbols in the wall. He watched closely as they arranged themselves into letters. He read out loud, “’Only one may enter. The Diamond in the Rough.’”

Moriarty was by his side in seconds, eyes furrowed incredulously. “It does say that. This complicates things a bit. Alright, Johnny boy, I need you to do one more thing for me. Just wave your hand over it again then go in. Don’t touch anything but the lamp.”

John’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, “You want to go wherever and get you a lamp? I could just buy you one from the store, you know. It’d be a quick milk run.”

Moriarty chuckled, “So funny, John. Remember, touch nothing but the lamp.”

John answered with a sigh of reluctance. Thankfully, Moriarty backed away to let him do this ridiculous task of his. John raised his hand again and waved it over the letters. This time the stone shook and wobbled then opened like a door. John stared at the pitch black entrance, almost wanting to walk away. Almost.

“What are you waiting for, Johnny boy?” Moriarty encouraged him, “Go. Remember, touch nothing but the lamp.

Nodding absently, John took a step forward into the darkness, jolting when he felt himself lower onto a step. Lanterns lit themselves, revealing a very long staircase. He was a few steps in when the door slammed closed behind him.

Harry chattered, her eyes narrowed at the door behind him.

John agreed, “Yeah, I don’t trust him either but we might as well see what this whole lamp thing is about.”

She nodded reluctantly.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stared at the sight before them for a good five minutes unblinkingly. Gold was everywhere as far as the eye can see. Gold doubloons, broaches, crosses, harps, and watches. King Midas may well have been living in there. There were jewels too, scattered haphazardly into the mix. However, the path at John’s feet was clear.

Harry blinked and with an exclamation of excitement, dived for the gold.

Reflexively, John grabbed hold of her tail, earning angry chattering from his little friend. He glared at her, “Touch nothing but the lamp. Call me crazy but the way he repeated that several times didn’t exactly scream ‘help yourself.’”

She chattered in complaint but John shook his head firmly.

“I don’t want to know what will happen if we touch anything else. We’re going to get that lamp and get out so we can go home.”

She muttered something else but grumpily crawled back up to his shoulder.

They crept through the cave of riches listening out for anything beyond their footsteps. When smothered by the silence, the gold seemed dead. As moments passed, John started feel like he was in a tomb.

Then a crash sent the both him and Harry jumping out of their skin.

He spun around, reaching for the gun that wasn’t there. It was actually a relief when he saw that it was just a standing carpet. Just a standing, walking, sheepish looking carpet.

“Uh, hello?” He attempted to be civil because, honestly, he didn’t even know what was going on anymore.

The carpet edged forward, walking on its two corners.

When he glanced at Harry, all he got was a shrug so he edged forward as well and held out a hand (because civil, remember?). “I’m John.”

The carpet seemed to take in his hand for a moment before shaking it vivid excitement.

“It’s nice to meet you too?” Yes, that was a question because he really did not know.  “Maybe you can help us. We’re looking for a lamp.”

He didn’t have to say another word before it flew ahead, stopped, motioned for him to follow, and then continued flying.

John took a moment to think about his life. He honestly thought regularly talking to a monkey would be highest on his ‘what the hell are you doing-o-meter’ but no, now he’s following a flying carpet. He thinks he just broke the meter.

The carpet led them down the swirling path until they came to a chamber door. John sighed and pushed the door open. It was surprisingly light and opened silently to a dark chamber. The first thing to catch John’s eye was the staircase, bridging the gap between him and the awfully lamp sitting on a violet velvet pillow. Beneath the seemingly stable stairs was an abyss. One that he refused to fall into, dammit.

“Okay, I’m,” he trailed off when he noticed Harry wasn’t on his shoulder. He looked around frantically then spotted the carpet holding back his monkey from doing something exceedingly stupid like picking up the big red gem from the ape shrine. “Harry,” he hissed, startling the two.

Harry shrugged at him guilty and pointed at the gem like the size of it should justify her actions.

“Get back over here or I’ll tie your tail to my wrist,” John threatened.

She knew full well John wasn’t kidding so she scurried back and climbed back up to his shoulder. The carpet flew ahead of them up the staircase and hoovered quietly near the lamp. John reached it soon after and stared at the seemingly harmless thing. It was old, obviously. No one had made that style of lamp in _centuries_. It was also pretty dusty. John picked it up gently and took a closer look. There were words on the thing but they were covered in layers of dust. He dusted it off with hand, not expecting the blasted thing to start moving. But of course it did, with enough force to send him and Harry flying off the tiny structure into the abyss. He thanked every deity he knew of when he felt the carpet beneath him. Dazed, he blinked up at the woman above him. Her blood red lips were set in a temperamental frown. Her black, lace dress faded out into purplish smoke that was seeping from the damn lamp he was holding. She poofed up a chair out of nowhere and sat down, the purplish smoke turning into mile long legs.

“Good lord,” he murmured, “Don’t even tell me what you are. I really should have gone for that second cup of coffee today.”

The comment made her smile, “Didn’t expect to find a genie today, huh?”

“Not exactly, no,” he sat up, “I’m John.”

“Irene,” the genie introduced herself, “Now what can I do for you, John? You have three wishes. Make them count.”

“Oh well, funny thing about that,” John grinned sheepishly, “I don’t want anything. I mean, I have my own clinic, I met this really cute guy yesterday and I’m hoping he’ll call me, I have Harry here who seems to like you for some reason. Odd.” The monkey hadn’t taken her eyes off the genie since she appeared and hadn’t utter a single sound. “Anyway, my life is fine. I don’t need anything.”

“Really, John?” Irene’s eyebrows furrowed, “You really have no wish for me to grant?”

“Not really.”

“Not even to like, get you out of here,” she motioned vaguely at the underground vault they were currently occupying.  

John shrugged and sat up on the carpet, folding his legs, “It would be nice but I have two legs and know where the exit is. Besides, I wasn’t even the one who wanted the lamp. The royal advisor is. I was sort of hired for the job, though I doubt I’ll be getting paid.”

“That sounds like a bore,” she sighed, “Probably just another guy wanting to take over the country by wishing himself to the top.”

“Take over,” John cried, horrified, “No, no, that can’t happen. What would happen to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” she asked.

“He’s the prince,” he explained, then added with a shy grin, “And kind of the guy I’m waiting for a call from. We met while he was getting himself in trouble around the marketplace and kind of hit it off.”

“Honey, you said this boy is a prince?” her eyebrow rose critically, “Oh, you do need me. There’s no way a prince will marry you without a title. A good title.”

“Sherlock doesn’t care about all that,” John argued hotly.

“Maybe not Sherlock,” she conceded, “But his father won’t look twice at you if you’re just a comely doctor and you want father-in-law’s blessing don’t you?”

John hated to admit it but, “I’m listening.”

“All you have to do is wish to be a man worthy of a prince then I do all the heavy lifting.” She grinned mischievous, “Honestly, it’s in your best interest.”

“You’re looking to get a kick out of this, aren’t you?”

She laughed, “You’re interesting, John. I like interesting. I’ll even get you out of here for free. We need to make plans if you’re going to be presented to the king himself. But first, make your wish.”

John didn’t forget to thoroughly roll his eyes before saying dryly, “I wish to be a suitable suitor for the prince.”

“Your wish is my command, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Aladdin with several twists and a lot of weird dynamics but it's still Aladdin. Don't forget that because the story won't make any sense otherwise. Like, I'm walking a thin line between making sense and losing my mind. But yeah, comment, kudo, tell me if you likey me Aladdin Johnlock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene argues with a monkey and things change on the Sherlock front.

An hour later, John found himself in a luxury hotel while his monkey, a magic carpet and a genie looked online for suitable clothing. He honestly didn’t know what was happening anymore.

Harry pointed at a burgundy suit and chattered excitedly.

“Are you kidding?” Irene argued, “That is not his color. I was thinking we’d go with this navy blue one right here.”

The carpet pointed at something that had Irene nodding, “I see where you’re coming from. With his height, it’s better to get a matching jacket and pants that blend but we don’t want him looking like a blob of color.”

They continued on like that while they constructed his ‘I’m rich and have a prestigious title’ look. Meanwhile, John sat back and watched tele since he didn’t even know if he wanted to be involved with that. Part of him just wanted to get back to his clinic and have that conversation with Sarah.

After a while, he commented offhandedly to Irene, “You do realize that you’re the only one capable of actual speech right?”

She sniped right back, “Yes, it was nice of you to introduce me to your closest friends.”

John shrugged, “Fair enough. Did you guys finally settle on something?”

The three of them were inspecting several different sets of pictures spread out on the screen. From shoes to watches, they picked and chose from the remaining selection until only one set of everything were left on the screen. Irene grinned, “There we go. Time to work my magic. Stand up, John.”

With the most inconvenienced sigh he could manage, he stood.

“Oh hush,” she scolded, “Back straight, head up. I’m turning a pauper into a prince. The least you can do is pretend this isn’t totally against your will.”

He did what he was told without commenting on how this was against his will.

She circled him thoughtfully then with a click of her fingers, he was dressed in a black suit and cream shirt. The suit had subtle white stitching going vertically and a red handkerchief in the pocket. His hair was gelled back stylishly and a mahogany cane was in his hand.

He lifted a cane, feeling a pang of irritation at just seeing it. “What is this for?”

“Oh, Johnny,” she shook her head at him, “You have to understand the importance of accessories if you plan to make it in high society. Come on, we need to get you to the palace.” She snickered, “Cinderella.”

“None of that,” John demanded, “I didn’t wish for all this.” She smirked at him. “Okay, shut up and go. Conjure up a sports car or something.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------

Sherlock briefly contemplated texting John that night but after several attempts at a good greeting text, he gave up. Molly nudged his arm, worried, after he spent an hour glaring at his phone because this was ridiculous. It should be much easier. He and John had made their intentions fairly obvious, a text with any greeting should be welcomed by John however every text he constructed was too banal. He stood up and paced the length of his bedroom.

“I’ll wait until tomorrow,” he said to both himself and Molly. “Actually, I’ll visit tomorrow. That would make him happier than a silly text will. Right?”

Molly watched, emanating warmth and amusement.

“But it may inconvenience him if he’s taking patients. He has a monkey assist him with his patients, how could I be any more of a bother?”

Molly gave him a knowing look that made him scoff.

“My deductions could help him with his patients. Okay, I’m going. Tomorrow morning, I will go visit John again.” He collapsed on his bed, “He’d be okay with that, right?”

Amused, Molly nodded and licked Sherlock’s cheek.

The contact calmed him a bit. Just enough for him to distract himself with an experiment.

He waited eight hours. Eight hours so excruciating that he even tried to sleep so they’d past faster but he couldn’t. He was actually _excited_. He dared to hope that John looked forward to seeing him again too.

He left at six am for John’s small clinic.

There were considerably less people about in the streets. Now of the market stands were up, which was a relief to Sherlock. He found his way to the clinic but hesitated at the door.

“You’re looking for Dr. Watson?” Some lady yelled out her car.

Sherlock nodded slightly, confused.

“He was arrested yesterday. Apparently, he didn’t come back last night so they must be still holding him.”

“Arrested for what?” Sherlock demanded.

The woman looked briefly offended by his tone but then smiled comfortingly, “I get it, sonny. We all know Dr. Watson wouldn’t do anything wrong. It was something with a document mix up. Good day.” She drove off.

No, actually, the day was turning into an ominous, stormy mess and Sherlock’s mind was racing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriarty gets a talking to and John gets a Sherlock (back).

“Moriarty,” Sherlock shouted, stopping the advisor in his tracks. Molly was by his side as he marched up to him. “What is the meaning of this? According to the city soldiers, you demanded that they bring you a John Watson under a false accusation of malpractice.”

“Oh, your majesty,” Moriarty put on a deeply grieved expression, “I did not want you to find out like this but Dr. Watson’s crime was even worse than malpractice.”

“Pray tell, what was his crime?”

Moriarty leaned in closer than Sherlock would ever feel comfortable with and whispered, “Treason against the king.”

“John would never,” Sherlock lashed out indignantly. “He’s a kind, honest man.”

“Oh Sherlock,” Moriarty clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Why would he ever befriend you if not to get closer to the King?”

A strain of insecurity made Sherlock hesitate and Moriarty quickly moved in, “Of course he would pretend to like your deductions. You’re closer to the King to anyone else. He feared angering you. Really, Sherlock, you should work on your ability to read people.” With that, Moriarty turned and stride down the hall, leaving Sherlock to contemplate his words.

He asked quietly, “Do you think John was pretending to like my deductions?”

Molly growled lowly, her feline eyes still narrowed on the form of Lord James Moriarty.

Sherlock glanced down at her and understood. “You’re right, Molly. Whether John was lying or not, we know Moriarty is definitely a liar. I’m going to get to the bottom of this and, hopefully, by then, I’d have enough proof to get him behind bars.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Black stretched limousine.

Airplanes with banners.

Police escort.

Parade floats.

Irene made sure John had everything he needed for the most boisterous, gaudy entrance possible on the streets, heading to the palace. The palace gates opened readily for the guest that could only be highly revered.

The king waited within the gates, obviously both amused and impressed by the spectacle John was causing. His advisor, on the other hand, only seemed politely interested and not at all impressed. John took advantage of the tinted windows to fix his suit, Irene used a lint brush to get off any monkey hairs.

She whispered a small, “Ready?”

“Not at all,” John smiled, “But it will be nice to see Sherlock again.”

“Speaking of him, I put a little spell on you to make sure you’re not recognized by him or Moriarty,” she straightened his tie, “Remember, you need to be a man a prince can respect, not a passing fling.”

“Sherlock, of all people, having a passing fling?” John snorted, “Irene, just wait until you meet him. Then you’ll see that all this was completely unnecessary.”

“Maybe. Until then, do what I say. Remember, suave and confident.” She smoothed his jacket then disappeared into the miniature lamp that he now wore as a pin.

“Right,” he took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair. “Suave and confident. Practically my middle name. It’s much better than Hamish. Here I go.” He swung the door open and surged out, battle ready. He approached the king and bowed, “Your majesty, I am the Lord of the house of Watson in the Northern lands. News of your son’s beauty and intelligence reached me and moved me to come and attempt to court him.”

Thrilled could not begin to look on the king’s face. “Oh, Moriarty, did you hear that? A man who values intelligence. Come in, Lord Watson, come in. You must meet Sherlock as soon as possible.” He turned to the nearest servant and snapped impatiently, “Go on, now. Fetch Sherlock.” The servant scurried away while the king ushered John into the throne room.

Moriarty looked utterly bored by the exchange but maintained a neutral smile like he did with all of Sherlock’s suitors. Anyone who had heard anything of Sherlock would be here only for the Holmes name so he figured this one would no different.

“So Lord Watson, are you a learned man yourself?” the king asked.

John admitted modestly, “I am no scholar. I am a doctor though. It was something I wanted to learn since I was a child.”

“A doctor,” the king beamed, “Absolutely fantastic. Sherlock is very much interested in the human body. You will have much to talk about. This is wonderful.”

John agreed whole-heartedly, “I’m glad you think so. I certainly look forward to getting to know Sherlock.”

“Yes, um,” the king hesitated, “He can be a bit contrary at times so have patience.”

“I bet he’s an angel once you get past the outer shell.”

“Certainly he is,” the king exclaimed. He caught sight of Sherlock entering the throne room at a leisurely walk and smiled even wider. He had a good feeling about this. A very good feeling. “Sherlock, come meet your new suitor, Lord Watson. He’s a doctor.”

John bowed slightly with a friendly smile, “Call me Hamish.”

“Hamish Watson,” Sherlock said curiously. “A former army doctor who fought in the sand dunes. Odd to think you are a Lord as well.”

“My brother, the former Lord, died of cancer while I was fighting. I was the next in line so I took his place after being invalided.” John was almost proud of himself for recounting the story Irene came up with flawlessly.

“And a doctor?”

“I always wanted to heal ailments. My station in life wasn’t going to stop me.” Which was partially true. He grew up too poor to afford schooling to become a doctor. It was why he joined the army.

“Interesting,” Sherlock drawled, giving John a full body inspection then furrowing his eyebrows, “Very interesting.”

John withstood the inspection with a smile, taking a chance to admire the various shades of blue and green within Sherlock’s eyes.

“Sometimes, I don’t talk for days on end.”

John snapped out of his thoughts, “What?”

“I also detest repetition. Possible fiancés should know the worst of each other before rushing into marriage so I’m telling you now, sometimes, I don’t talk for days on end and like to play violin at all times of the night. Would that bother you?”

“No,” John couldn’t help grinning, “No, not at all. I love the violin when played well.”

“Well fortunately, I am exceptional at it,” Sherlock’s lip twitched up into a small smile. He didn’t miss the look of delight on his father’s face or the shock on Moriarty’s. “Come along, Hamish. We can continue our conversation in private.”

“Of course, Prince Sherlock,” John rushed to catch up with the prince’s long strides, forgetting to even bid goodbye to the king.

“Oh, Moriarty, look at how quickly Sherlock took to him,” the king said excitedly, “A have a good feeling about this Hamish fellow. A very good feeling.”


End file.
